


guilt is a far cry from rejection

by pinkmelon



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmelon/pseuds/pinkmelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to push her back, to tell her that this isn't something that should happen between them. That she's too young, and he's too old, and gossip travels faster than the speed of sound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	guilt is a far cry from rejection

**Author's Note:**

> a very, very short kakasaku one shot i wrote the other day at two am  
> figured it was decent enough to post!

Kakashi had learned to keep a measure of distance from her; it was nothing of her own fault, really. No, it wasn't how she seemed to let her gaze linger on him or how she would let her hands stay on him for longer than was necessary, that he kept himself away. Mostly, it was himself. Of course, the man knew of crushes, of twittering hearts and sparkling eyes, how they worked, how he was the subject of them from time to time (ridiculous, if you asked him, seeing as he's covered nigh from head to toe, and it seems ridiculous to consider that the three square inches of skin visible at any time could be construed as attractive); however what troubled him most is that he wouldn't have suspected her, of all people, to develop one on him. What he wasn't good at, however, was dealing with them; on several occasions he'd been subject to names, embittered ones whispered amongst the kunoichi community that labeled him a heartbreaker. Though, in specific, this one crush. It was easy to ignore a girl with her frivolous heartstrings, or to shoot her down when she comes hands folded in front of her in display of coy affection. And yet, here he was, finding himself unable to ignore a single aspect of this one.

At first, he catered to her whims. Flirted back, in that way he assumed was oh so innocent, or the sort that happens naturally - one might argue it's completely plausible a girl her age flirt with anyone, though it became quite the concern when he'd come to notice she wasn't particularly flirting with anyone else, let her lay her head on his shoulder when she was tired, beat from a mission that drained the both of them and she needed something to keep herself upright for fear of passing out. Once, if he recalled correctly, which he always did, he even let her take his hand as she led him to something she was excited about. Perhaps it was his fault things turned out this way, that her heart yearned for him - and - that his did the same. It was childish, the way he really did want her hand on his shoulder, or her eyes on him, her slender fingers laced between his long ones. He considers himself wrongful, that this was hardly the sort of way he should see a girl he's known since she was twelve.

So, of course, he attempted to put some distance between them; Sakura had a future ahead of her, something bright and promising as the green in her eyes. Kakashi, well, he didn't believe there was much in the road waiting for him, beyond working as a machine for his village, living in a state of limbo between alive and dead and torn between two worlds he can't seem to even consider leaving behind. Self deprecating, as always, he was sure he'd put some damper in her, end something before it began. In fact, he was quite sure that he'd done that right from the start, having been such a poor teacher to her, lauding her for her talents and forgetting to help her hone them. He regrets that. Perhaps that way of thinking was childish, too. Yet she was young, she was callow, and Kakashi had, regrettably, become hardened by the world they lived in. He saw nothing good from it, no matter the way his cheeks would flush up when she came too close to be considered normal for the two of them, thankfully hidden by the dark material of his mask, quenched before it become too obvious.

Nothing good.

Still, she would find her way to him. A stubborn girl, if there ever was one. Catch him off guard, speaking in that tone of hers that could only be described as naive, when she was anything but. She was a girl who knew what she wanted, he would always attest to that about her. She would 'chance' upon him, while he was in the street, or sitting somewhere, lock her arm with his and confidently hold him to her as she went on about something that'd happened in the day that he so desperately needed to hear about, chattering his ear off in a way he could never bring himself to be upset about it.

Usually, he just let her stay with him, finding himself unable to tell her no, be it from her obstinate personality or the fact that he was weak willed when it came to the girl, even as her fingers crept toward his as he sat at a table in his home ( she'd so very sweetly wedged her way in, he couldn't say no even if he tried. ) He sees, of course, despite his nose being lodged into the binding of a book, the same one he read almost religiously. He doesn't move, even as she laced their hands together, turning his over to expose the palm to make it easier.

"Sakura," he begins-- she interrupts him, first, responding in kind. Eagerly, he can hear it in her voice.  
"Kakashi."

They get quiet, and she has her way with his hand. Mostly, she traces her fingers along the creases of his palm, and the air's thick with words she wants to say but can't quite manage.

"..Don't you have anything to do?"  
"I don't." She's firm in her words. It makes him wonder if she's lying.  
"Really, nothing at all? You've finished all your work."  
"Yes, Kakashi- _sensei_."

She's beginning to sound exasperated. It's almost amusing to the older man, as he uses his thumb to flip the page of his book. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard, and by the time he's lifted his head to see her move, she's already next to him. She looks a little embarrassed, maybe, but she's _not_ the girl who fawned over Sasuke anymore. Then, her hands are reaching out, a beeline for his mask. Instinctively, he raises his hand, to block her, but she's so very fast these days. She catches his wrist in her own grasp, and the other makes it to the mask, and at this point, he doesn't make a move to stop her, even if he very well could. Her fingers curl underneath the fabric, gently sliding it down his face until it bunches up under his chin like the collar of a sweater.

He can't really tell if she's impressed, or surprised, or what. She seems to be studying, letting her eyes travel over the curves of his face because, yes, that's right-- she's never seen it before. He doesn't stop her.

Nor does he stop her when she leans in, even though he tells himself he should. 

There's guilt swimming inside him, punching his rib cage in the way all negative feelings often did. He wants to push her back, to tell her that this isn't something that should happen between them. That she's too young, and he's too old, and gossip travels faster than the speed of sound.

He wants to say no when their lips touch,  
but oh my _god,_  
he can't bring himself to care anymore.


End file.
